


The One in Red

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, mortastic fic exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For oh-thats-clever. The prompt was "Something bad happens. After-fluff ensues." Hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One in Red

Sebastian was late. He'd texted an hour ago, saying he was on his way home. Yet, he still hadn't arrived. Jim found himself pacing the living room, waiting for him to arrive. After another ten minutes, he pulled out his phone, angrily jabbing at the keyboard. 

Moran. Where the fuck are you? -JM

It was the twentieth text he'd sent in fifteen minutes. This time, however, he received a reply. 

Jimmy... M'gonna be late. -SM

And why the fuck is that, Moron? -JM

I was taking the bike home... semi hit me. -SM

Jim's blood ran cold. A semi truck... had hit his Sebastian? 

Are you alright? -JM

No, sir. -SM

How bad is it? -JM

Really bad. As in my spine's probably broken bad. -SM

Oh. Oh, God. Tiger, no. -JM

Tell me you're kidding. -JM

I'm sorry, sir. I'm not kidding. I can't move my legs at all. And there's a lot of blood. They... They're doing everything they can to not further the damage when they move me. -SM

Jesus fucking Christ, Seb... Where are you? -JM

Two blocks down from the flat. -SM

I'll be there in two minutes. -JM

I'll be the one in red. -SM

That's not fucking funny, Sebastian. -JM

Sorry, Kitten. -SM

Jim raced down the street, barefoot and wearing his boxers. He hadn't bothered with putting clothing on. Sebastian was too important. And if he was dying.... Jim immediately banished that thought. No. Sebastian wasn't allowed to die. Not unless it was by Jim's hand. And Jim didn't plan on killing Sebastian for a long time to come. Not until the consulting criminal himself was good and ready to die too. 

When he arrived at the scene, his normally pale skin turned completely white. It looked bad. Sebastian's bike was a mangled mess of metal. There was blood on the pavement. And Sebastian himself looked... small. Jim shoved past the paramedics and police, running to his Tiger and falling to his knees beside him. “Sebby?” he whispered, taking his hand.   
Sebastian's eyes fluttered open.   
“Kitten,” he whispered, smiling a bit. “I was w-waiting for you.”   
Jim pulled Sebastian's hand to his cheek, nuzzling it. “Seb, you can't go. You absolutely can't. Not unless I kill you. You're... You're supposed to take care of me. Who's going to make sure I eat and sleep if you're gone?”  
Sebastian spluttered out a laugh. “Y-You'll be fine, b-babe.” He closed his eyes again and Jim squeezed his hand.   
“Look at me, Sebby. That's an order.”   
His eyes opened again.   
“Good Tiger. That's it. Keep those baby blues on me.”   
Sebastian smiled and pulled Jim down, kissing his lover gently. “I'm s-sorry, B-B-Boss,” he breathed.   
Jim shook his head. “Please don't go.”   
The paramedics finally managed to get the stretcher under Sebastian and they lifted him gently. Jim followed along, holding tightly to his hand. “You'll be alright, Tiger. They're going to fix you up. Then we can go home and I'll let you watch your stupid fecking army shows if you want.”   
Sebastian smiled and nodded, closing his eyes again. “Sound great, Kit. As long as I can cuddle you while we watch.”   
Jim nodded, kissing his forehead. “Of course. For as long as you want.”  
Sebastian nodded and kissed Jim's cheek before letting the sedatives drag him under. 

Jim sat in the waiting room for four hours, waiting for news on his Tiger. When the doctor finally came out, it wasn't with good news.   
“Mr. Moran just came out of surgery. We think he has a very strong chance of surviving...”   
Jim blinked, staring up at the doctor with dead, black eyes. “But?”  
“But... his spinal column was severed. He'll never walk again.”   
Jim stared up at the doctor for a long moment before nodding. “I want to see him.”   
“Of course, Mr. Moriarty. Please, follow me.”   
He led him back to Sebastian's room, closing the door behind him. Jim stepped forwards, looking at his poor Tiger, connected to tubes and wires and needles. He sat down in the chair beside him, taking his hand again and sniffling.   
Sebastian opened his eyes and turned his head a bit. “J-Jim? What's wrong?”  
Jim shook his head. “Nothing, Sebby,” he whispered, leaning forwards and resting his head on his chest. “Nothing at all.”   
Sebastian sighed. “They told you about my back, didn't they?”  
Jim nodded. “I'm so sorry.”   
Sebastian shrugged. “It's okay, babe. I'll... I'll just help train your new recruits.”   
Jim nodded again. “Alright.”   
“I... you won't let me work again, will you?”  
He shook his head this time. “Absolutely not. It would be too dangerous.”   
Sebastian sighed and closed his eyes. “I love my job.”   
“I know you do, Tiger.”   
“Who's going to take care of you?”  
“You will, Tiger. I'll ride around in your lap and you can shoot people if they stare at us for too long.”   
Sebastian smiled. “That sounds kind of nice,” he whispered.   
“Doesn't it? And we can fuck all day, if you want.”   
The former sniper's smile grew. “That sounds really nice.”   
“Come on, Tiger. Let's go home. I'll get our doctors to come take care of you while you're healing.”   
“Alright, Jimmy.”   
Jim got a few nurses to help him move Sebastian into a wheelchair. He gathered up their belongings, dumped them in Sebastian's lap and started off, wheeling him into the lift, down to the entrance and out into a wheelchair accessible van he'd sent for.   
When they got home, Jim and the waiting doctors helped Sebastian into the bed. Jim buried him under the covers and smiled as he pressed up against his side. “Comfy?” he asked.   
Sebastian nodded. “Yes. Thank you, love.” Ignoring the doctors catheterizing and attaching IV's and various other instruments to him, he grabbed the remote and grinned, putting it on a two-hour special about Winchester rifles. “Your favourite, Jimmy.”   
He smirked and leaned over, kissing his cheek sweetly.  
Jim rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. After all, he'd promised.


End file.
